


Creed

by nikia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 19:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikia/pseuds/nikia
Summary: Set in season 4 post "A New Defender"After Keith’s near miss with death, he finds comfort and maybe more in a friend.





	Creed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naxzela has a bigger effect on Keith than he lets on.

Keiths’ first love was the stars. Back on Earth, his desert shack was remote enough to be spared the heavy light pollution of Earth’s sprawling megacities, and every night a wide expanse of stars and heavenly bodies stretched out above him. He would sit on his roof, and for a moment he could forget himself, the world would disappear, and he became a part of something higher. Sometimes, he could convince himself that the stars shone for him and him alone. He was a selfish lover, for they gave him much that he could not return, but they never asked for anything, only burned bright unending and unyielding night after night. Keith’s first love was the stars, and it was only fitting that he should die amongst them.

Keiths’ eyes snapped open at the last second. Surely there should've have been an impact by now, surely he should've heard the screeching of the two ships’ hulls colliding, should’ve felt the white hot pain of death. Instead, he saw the rapidly expanding explosion from Lotor’s cannon and instinctually yanked the controls of the Galra fighter so hard, it was a miracle the ship didn’t stall. Warning lights flashed as the blistering heat permeated the fighter’s hull, and Keith didn't have time to wipe the beads of sweat forming on his face, before he was forced to send his ship into a roll, dodging the jagged pieces of shrapnel flying off the fracturing warship.  


He spiraled out of the blast radius, righted his ship, then slumped back in his chair. Frantic breathing filled the cockpit as he fought to stay conscious, hot adrenaline rapidly leaving his body, and cold reality replacing it. Vision blurring, he focused on the blinking lights of the control panel which were all of a sudden far too bright. He could feel his hands cramping, knuckles still tight around the controls. If it weren't for his gloves he was sure his nails would have pierced flesh in their clenching. The ringing in his ears faded into a murmur as voices filled the cockpit. Matt and the other rebels were screaming at him. Shakily he muted their line, he’d deal with them later. Only Shiro’s voice remained, clear and congratulatory.

“Good work Keith!” There was no way he could have known. Keith felt sick. He put the last of his energy into his reply.

“It wasn’t me… It was Lotor,” he breathed into his communicator, disbelief flooding his voice. “The cannon on that ship was the only thing powerful enough to take down that shield.” He didn’t have the ability to comment on the absurdity of the exiled prince coming to their aid before a wave of nausea overtook him. He managed to click off his communication device, then retched violently, leaving a puddle of sick on the floor. Shaking all over, Keith closed his eyes as the gravity of what he’d attempted, what he’d almost done, washed over him. In that moment, the endless expanse of space seemed suffocating. Terror came in waves, big enough to sink ships, strong enough to drown sailors.  
…  
Kolivan wanted to speak to him, immediately. Back aboard the Castle Ship, Keith had only just disembarked his fighter when the agent found him. Keith didn’t recognize him—probably a new recruit. He was large and stocky, clothed in the traditional Blade suit. He didn’t remove his mask or speak, only beckoned Keith to follow with a gloved four-fingered hand. They walked quickly through the glowing halls of the ship in silence, leaving only muffled footsteps in their wake. Keith knew what he’d done was reckless, but he didn’t think the Blades would disapprove of it. Individual agents were after all, dispensable. 

“A rebel officer informed me that you attempted to stop Naxzela at the expense of your life.” Kolivan’s tone was serious and he spoke smoothly and evenly. Keith looked down sheepishly. It was horribly disrespectful and frankly insubordinate to avoid eye contact, but no matter how hard he tried, Keith could not meet Kolivan’s eyes as the Galra launched into a speech.

“ I commend you for your efforts, Keith,” He ended several dobashes later. “ We fight for the greater good—you would have saved a lot of lives.” He patted Keiths shoulder in a formal show of affection, then turned to leave the room. Keith glanced at his back as he exited trying to ignore the knot forming at the base of his throat. He knew it was the way of the Blade to value the mission above all else, but a tiny part of him wished Kolivan had shown some concern for his well being.

Matt is on his case before Keith can so much as take two steps into the next room.

“What the hell was that!”

Keith plays dumb,“What do you mean?” He asks, voice cool.

Matt’s face flashes with anger, “You know full well what I mean Kogane. Are you trying to be some sort of martyr?!” And then they're nose to nose, Matt’s staring him down fiercely. “Did you even think about how everyone else would’ve felt if you’d—” Died. The word is left unsaid, but it sits heavy over their conversation like a fog. What would Voltron do without you? What would your team do without you? Shiro?” Keith cringes. “ Hunk? Pidge? Lance—“

“Lance hates me.” Keith cuts him off, voice raised in annoyance.

“You are really are an idiot if you think your team members don’t care about you.”

“They aren’t my team anymore— I’m with the Blade now. I betrayed them” Keith’s face is a stoic mask. Matt opens his mouth again but Keith keeps going. “Besides Matt, what if Lotor hadn’t intervened? We’d all be dead... I almost flew into that cruiser because it was the only thing I could think of to stop Naxzela! The mission is more important than any individual life.” A dark place in Keiths mind supplies the Galra mantra — Victory or death. He feels like throwing up again.

“You really don’t get it do you?” Matt’s eyes are red and Keith realizes now that he’s crying, little droplets are leaking from his eyes, streaming down his face, and pooling on his armor. “You don’t think I know that?” He's not shouting anymore, instead his voice is shaking at just above a whisper. Matt moves and all of a sudden his face is pressed to Keiths shoulder. They’re hugging, Matt’s armor big and clunky against Keith’s blade suit. Matt has him pressed flush against his chest and Keith cant move a muscle. “Your friends care about you.”  


Keith doesn’t remember when him and Matt got so close. Maybe they bonded over being somewhat excluded from the Voltron team. Maybe it was all of the joint missions between the Blade and the Rebels. Maybe its because Keith looks up to Matt just a little bit. All he knows now is that Matt is one of his closest friends. He relaxes into his hold. 

“Please don’t tell anyone.” Keith whispers into Matt’s hair. Matt releases him and nods, wiping his eyes.

“I wont, but you should.” He turns to leave the room, “We’re needed for interrogation in half a varga.” The door slides shut behind him. Keith watches Matt go, then throws up on his shoes.  
…  
It takes longer than expected to interrogate Lotor. Even as a prisoner the prince manages to exude nobility. His answers are brief and coded and his smirk has an air of I just saved all of your lives, and I don’t have to tell you anything. Keith knows they're being toyed with, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn't participate only watches from the corner, mask on, as the Paladins, the Rebels, and finally the Blade ask their questions. 

“Why did you stop Naxzela!” Princess Allura shouts, she sounds angry, but Keith knows she’s afraid, and by the look of it Lotor knows it too. 

“Really Princess, you can’t be serious?” He replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone. The two of them make eye contact, locked in some sort of aggressive staring contest. Allura appears to lose because after a few seconds she makes a loud noise in frustration then rips off her translator and gestures for Coran to follow her.

“Lets get out of here,” She seethes. They leave, the Paladins trailing helplessly behind them.

The rebels are brief with their questions. Matt asks him what star systems he has under his command. A question Lotor balks at then answers with the same patronizing tone as before 

“Surely you know I’m exiled?”

When Blade begin asking Lotor about Naxzela, Keith slips out of the room while they're distracted. He knows he should stay for the interrogation, but whenever Naxzela is mentioned he feels the heat of the explosion, sees a flash of brilliant deadly light.. He walks past the kitchens, where Hunk is banging around probably trying to replicate another Earth dish. Keith feels like he should say “hello” but something stops him. I’m not a Paladin anymore, he reminds himself. He walks until he reaches the uppermost deck of the ship, the one with the biggest windows. Keith sits on the floor, leaning against one of the ship’s cool steel walls and stares into the unknown. The stars are twinkling beautifully, and for a moment Keith wonders what would’ve happened if he had crashed into that cruiser like he intended to, would he have become one of them? He surely would have been vaporized from the heat of the explosion alone, if not that, then the cold vacuum of space would have done the job. The little fragmented particles of him would eventually been compressed with other space dust into a new celestial body, perhaps not a star but a planet, Keith thinks. Maybe it would’ve even been nice. 

That particular thought is so dangerous that Keith pushes it from his mind the second it forms.  
He is surprised to find himself crying. It isn’t a lot at first, just little tears creeping out of the corners of his eyes and collecting on his cheeks, then there are more, fully-formed drops of salt-water that stream all the way down his face and curl underneath his chin, and it isn’t long before he’s all out bawling, tears forming and falling freely. 

“Keith?” —Shit that’s Lance’s voice isn’t it? Keith looks up to see the blue—no red— paladin standing before him. “Shit man — are you crying?” Usually Keith would have shouted at him to go away, but right now he just can’t find it in him. He tries to stop, but the tears won't cease, so he just brings his knees to his chest and buries his face in them, defeated.

“Go away” his voice comes out shaky and all wrong, lacking the venom and bite he tries to give it. Lance is silent for a moment, like he's considering it, then he slides down next to Keith. 

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong” Their shoulders brush together, and Lance is so warm, so soft. “But if you do… I’ll listen.” Keith considers this, he had made Matt promise not to tell the team, but maybe someone should know. He raises his head from his knees and tips it back so he’s gazing at the ceiling. 

“I tried to kill myself.” The words tumble out in a garbled mess before he can stop himself. Lance eyes go very wide and Keith thinks he’s made a mistake. “Don’t tell Shiro — Please don’t tell Shrio.” He begs, still sobbing, hands flying to catch Lance’s wrists so he’ll face him. Their eyes meet and Lance’s breath hitches.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Lance promises. “Tell me what happened?” He tries.

Keith tells him. About the heat of the explosion, about the way his nails dug into his palms, about how the words “victory or death” flashed in his mind, and how he closed his eyes and braced for an impact that never came. He’s crying even harder by the end of it, chest shaking as he takes in air in short gasping breaths, and all Lance can think to do is hug him. 

Hugging Lance isn’t at all like hugging Matt. He’s softer for one because he's not wearing armor, only a cotton t-shirt he must’ve still had from Earth, nothing like the synthetic fabric on the ship. His arms aren’t crushing Keith, only wrapped loosely around him, but Keith is still close enough to hear his heartbeat. He doesn't smell of sweat and acrid smoke like Keith does and he’s probably just showered. His hair is still slightly damp and smells like whatever synthesized soap the Castle Ship provides. Keith’s tears are definitely ruining Lance’s clean shirt, so he pulls away and stutters out an apology.

“What are you sorry for?” Lance whispers, and Keith looks at him, really looks at him. Lance is ethereal, the bluish glow from the starlight and dim lights of the ship framing him. His hair is sticking out at all angles and it suits him. His chest is rising and falling slowly, rhythmically.

“Your shirt…” Keith stutters, “Sorry.” Lances barking laugh cuts through his second apology, and Keith blushes to the tips of his toes. “What are you laughing at, Asshole?” 

Lances laughter fades away, but Keith can still see it in the crinkle of his eyes and the edge of his smile. “Nothing.” He smirks, “Just you Keith,” he wipes a strand of hair out of his face, “ Just you.” 

They sit there on the floor for an hour more, talking about nothing and everything. Lance asks Keith to take break from the Blade. Keith mulls it over, then says yes. Later, when Keith is lying in bed feigning sleep, he cracks an eye open looks out of his window and the stars once again catch his eye. Lance deserves a place among them, he decides, then slips into unconsciousness, the whirr of the castle ship calming him like a lullaby. 

 

…  
That night Keith dreams he’s a soldier in the Galra army, purple skin, glowing yellow eyes, bloodlust fueling him. Lance is before him, eyes hard, red bayard drawn, when did he get a sword? In an instant Keith and him are fighting; For a fleeting moment Keith thinks them to be sparring, but Lance’s attacks are too ferocious, too quick, too real, for it to be anything but a proper fight. As Keith realizes this he leaves his side open and Lance runs him through with his blade. Keith feels the cold steel parting him, but he doesn’t bleed; Instead he collapses into a cloud of ash and blows away in the wind, like he was hardly there in the first place.


End file.
